


Here There Be Dragons

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Coming Out, Dragons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray knows Gerard likes his rockstar-biker-tough guy neighbour. Ray also knows he'd be terrified if he knew what Ray really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here There Be Dragons

Every dragon has three tells. One physical, one emotional, one cognitive. Anyone that knows dragons exist knows that basic fact, just like everyone knows giraffes have long necks or cows eat grass.

Some religious people believe the three tells are God’s way of evening things out. Dragons are essentially immortal, most in adult form. Child form immortality is rare, the only one Ray knows is Grace. The only way to kill a dragon is to kill it on two levels at once. Destroy the brain and do it with intense hatred. Destroy the body and do it with intense hatred. Or destroy brain and body at the same instant. Needless to say, most people obsessed with the death of dragons care less about perfect timing and more about focusing their disgust. 

Ray agrees that speaking from an intelligent design point of view it’s fair to make someone nearly immortal show themselves in three ways, to give humanity a chance to destroy him the way old age and accident never could. But that doesn’t mean he wants to die.

Ray’s best strategy to not get killed is to look unapproachable when he’s in human mode. Tells can’t be spotted if no one wants to get near him. He just needs to look nasty. A common misconception is dragons are shapeshifters, which just isn’t true. Ray can shift exactly two ways; human and dragon. Still, he can change his look just as much as any other person, which is quite a lot, ask Tyra Banks. Throughout the decades different styles have meant ruffian. Right now Ray’s a biker. He’s not the full stereotype, he can’t manage to make himself smoke meth to get the scorch marks on his lips or fingers, or get a hundred tattoos. But he’s got long hair and a bunch of muscles, and a wardrobe that’s mostly denim and leather topped with menacing sunglasses.

Of course, the long hair isn’t particularly an option. Ray’s physical aspect is fairly easy to conceal compared to some others. He knows human-mode dragons that have only three fingers or impossibly long toenails like claws or eyes that are all black pupil. Ray’s physical tell revolves around his hide. When he’s in dragon mode his scales are iridescent black, not quite square and not quite round. When Ray’s in human mode his scales remain from the top of his hairline to the nape of his neck. He’s just lucky enough his hair grows through it. Enough of the brown curls and it’s practically invisible.

Ray’s not stupid. He may have disengaged from society a bit, but he’s not deaf and he’s not blind. He knows his neighbour likes him. Ray even likes Gerard back. During the summer Ray keeps his windows open for the breeze. Almost every evening Gerard has three or four friends over in the backyard. He’s never obnoxious about it, it’s not like he plays techno with the bass cranked at midnight, but he is loud enough that Ray can hear him, and Ray likes the things he says.

The reciprocation doesn’t matter though. Ray can’t possibly make a move. In over half the countries on earth it’s perfectly legal to kill him, and in half the places it isn’t cops would look away and just happen to misplace the evidence. People getting close means people finding out means having to decide between trying to get away and maybe dying brutally, or savaging his attackers. And what is attributed to angels -which don’t exist- really belongs to his species; if a dragon does something reprehensible they lose their wings.

Then one day Gerard rings the doorbell. Ray knows it’s him because it buzzes four times in a row. Every time Gerard tries to talk to him he rings the doorbell four times, and if Ray doesn’t answer he’ll do it again, in another group of four. Gerard’s gotten as high as twenty four before giving up. Ray doesn’t want Gerard to give up, not today. Maybe it’s just because he’s over emotional, but he just doesn’t want Gerard to give up and walk away depressed himself. Ray puts his guitar down and moves steadily to the front door. He can handle a face to face interaction with the man he can’t allow himself to fall for. He can.

Gerard is fidgeting when Ray opens the door. He doesn’t stop, like a normal person would, just continues shifting his weight and jerking his neck and rubbing his thumbs up the sides of his fingers. It’s pretty endearing. “Hi. I’m Gerard.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re my neighbour. And we’ve talked before.”

“I know this is gonna sound funny, but are you okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Just because I guess you have a window open, or two? Because I could hear you playing the guitar and uh. You were sobbing. So are you okay?”

Ray could tear his hair out, if that wouldn’t show his black scalp and completely damn him. He’s so fuckin’ stupid. Fuck. Emotional tell just floating out a window for all to hear. Fuck. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just really attached to that song.” Understatement if there ever was one. Or at least an undergeneralisation. Every dragon gets hooked on some kind of art. Poetry, accordions, tapdancing- whatever the specifics are, every dragon weeps uncontrollably at the art form most important to them. Ray’s happens to be the guitar, the instrument you can’t avoid in practically every musical genre.

“Oh, well, okay. I was just worried.” Gerard runs a hand through his hair, currently dyed red.

“Yeah. Uh, thanks for coming to check.”

“Well my brother lives alone, and I’d like to think if a neighbour heard him sobbing they’d check on him.”

“They probably would.” They probably wouldn’t. But maybe he’s just cynical because people have wanted him dead for two hundred years. Besides, it would be mean to say that to Gerard. Ray doesn’t want to be mean to Gerard, even though it’s deadly dangerous to be nice.

“Yeah, okay. So, like, have a good day then.”

“You too.” It slips out before Ray can stop himself.

It’s like opening the floodgates. Ray’s not sure if the slight kindness did it, but from then on Gerard is ringing the doorbell once a day. Ray will answer despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, and he’ll stand on his landing mat inside the house while Gerard stands in flipflops on the sidewalk. It’s usually only a few minutes of conversation before he scurries off, but it’s more than Ray’s had in awhile. 

Then one day he shows up with another man. Gerard introduces the bleach blonde as his brother Mikey. Ray almost makes a comment about hoping he hasn’t been crying lately, but doesn’t. It would take too much to explain. They have their five minute chat, this time with Mikey chiming in. He’s funny, in a different way than Gerard, and not as cute, but funny. Ray decides once the door is closed that he wouldn’t mind if both Ways visited again.

His opinion rapidly changes when no more than forty five minutes later there’s another ring on his door, not in four buzz groupings. Ray opens it anyway, because he recognises the outline through the tinted pane of glass.

“Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t be here. Gerard told me he only let himself bother his agoraphobic neighbour once a day. He thinks I’m in the bathroom, I sneaked out the back porch. I had to ask something I forgot to earlier, and I won’t be here for tomorrow’s visit.”

“Ask away,” Ray mutters.

“How’s your motorcycle club, the Dracos?”

Fuck. “Great,” he says flatly.

“Because my girlfriend’s ex boyfriend, my ex boyfriend, he had a jacket like that and he’s never ridden a motorcycle. He’s probably never even seen one. Look, Gerard hasn’t figured it out yet. You gotta tell him.”

Double fuck. “Tell him what?”

“Tell him that like almost every dragon, your intellectual tell is subliminal messages, and it’s kinda sad that as a comic book artist he didn’t pick that up. Pete always thought that shit was cute too. You know, for a race that’s mostly terrified of being found out, the whole wearing ironic clothing thing seems pretty stupid.”

“What makes you think-”

Mikey shakes his head. His long bangs flop over his face as he does. “Stop it. I really don’t care enough to go digging for proof. But he needs to know. It’s hard, falling in love with immortals. Hell, it’s hard for the immortal to fall in love with someone that’s going to die eventually. Pete couldn’t handle it. Before you do anything more, you need to talk about it.”

After Mikey leaves Ray leans against his door and sighs. It could be a lot worse. At least there’s no interest in murder in either direction. Ray loves his wings, he can’t imagine what life would be like without them.

It takes Ray three weeks to say anything. He just doesn’t want to spoil things. He has other things to occupy his time; the emails various dragon friends send him, trolling forums, crying as he makes music, his online business, television shows. But those five minute conversations that are slowly lengthening to ten are the highlight of his day. Gerard is just a great person. Everything he thinks is so interesting.

He takes a few precautions before he says anything. He makes sure a roll of money is in his left pocket, a few fake ids and passports in his jacket pocket. His motorcycle -because unlike ‘Pete’, Ray does know how to ride his- is parked on the street. If this goes badly he won’t have to pull a knife, or turn and savage Gerard, he’ll just have to sprint down the sidewalk and drive away.

“So, uh. Gerard, I don’t want you to freak out. Please don’t freak out. But I’m a dragon.”

He’s expecting Gerard to freak out. At the very least, he’s expecting Gerard to demand proof, maybe of tells, maybe to even go to dragon mode, like he has to right to see it. Ray’s _not_ expecting Gerard to blink a few times and say “huh. You’ll be my second significant other.”

“Wh- what?”

“Well, this long time girlfriend I had said she was. Eliza. But sometimes I questioned it, because she never cried at art or anything, and it didn’t look like she had a physical tell? And we had sex a lot, so I kinda saw her whole body. But it’s offensive to ask to see a dragon their other way, so I didn’t. So you might be my first. I dunno.”

Ray runs his hand through his curls. Normally he doesn’t touch them in front of people, not wanting to move them in a way that might show his black scalp. But this is confusing enough that he feels justified scratching his head. “No, Gerard. I’m still caught up on the significant other part.”

“Well we are, aren’t we? I thought we were.” Now it’s Gerard’s turn to look confused.

“But we haven’t done anything!”

“Well it’s kinda hard to date someone who’s, like, an asexual agoraphobic. But we, um, talk and make each other smile, and I know you look forward to seeing me every day and I do for you. To you? So I thought-”

Ray passes the threshold of his door and grabs Gerard’s constantly moving hands before leaning in for a kiss. Gerard’s lips stay pursed for a moment when Ray pulls away. It’s just another way he looks beautiful.

“I’m not ace. I just mostly hook up with dragons with no strings. But I like you, and want strings with you.”

“You want strings with me?” Gerard repeats.

“I do. I want strings with you. And I’m not agoraphobic either. I go and buy my own groceries, in stores that I trust won’t have muzak. I just don’t like going out a lot. I don’t want to get stabbed through the brain.”

“I would never stab you in the brain.” Gerard’s shaking his head, over and over again like he’s stuck in the motion. “And if anyone tried to stab you in the brain I’d stab _them_ in the brain.”

It’s been awhile since Ray’s heard words so romantic. Probably twenty years. He wants to hear them again. He pulls Gerard into his house with both hands, and lets his foot nudge the door closed so he doesn’t have to let go.


End file.
